The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-06-02

the next spring | saw that the love vine
reappeared and grew on the bushes.
Doc saw it too, and he was pleased
greatly pleased. He was not an ar
dent lover He worshipped at dis
lance. The young fellows who came
home on furloughs were very gallant
and deferential toward Lucy. This
must have worried Doc, but he never
gave any sign.
Then came that call for men; that
plucking of the very flower of South
ern chivalry. o, remorseless war!
John Paxton was Is, and he must 60
to the war and leave his mother and
Lucy to fight the harder battle at home.
The enrolling officer" that agent of
war whose approach was dreaded so
much, he told Us that.
When he left Doe followed him out
to the gate After a short talk the
officer departed after shaking Doc by
the hand.
I've learned somethin'," he said,
with radiant face, when he came
back. 1.-The enrolling officer says that
John can stay at home if he can get a
substitute. I'm gwlne to be his sub
stitute."
OF course John Paxton did not want
to agree to the proposition. 1t looked
unmanly for him to stay and send a
little fellow like Doc. But the latter
argued, Il amt got nobody to keer
for, an if git hurt nobody'u be the
loser. You've got Mis- Paxton and
and-Lucy," he stammered, "an' you
ought to stay an make the crap. Be-
sides, | want to git to be big Generl
some time, maybe, an then Ill-Ill-
well, | want to 90, anyhow, an I'm
gwine as your substitute" And he
went.
Poor little Doc! Friend and play
mate of our childhood. His delicate
form that had been so nOurished and
cherished by his dOting mOther-and
our mother had loved him as one of
her own-when they brought him
home, wasted with privatiOn and hard
ship, and the hectic fever burned on
his cheeks, he looked very much like
our little old Doc. 1t was springtime
again then. There was a lull in the
wild tempest of war. BrOnZed and
bearded our heroes came home.
Bowed with defeat, tattered and torn,
ragged veterans of hundred battles.
There were so many heroic deeds that
the recital of daring achievements
grew commonplace. They did not
like to talk about it. Our Doc had
been every inch a soldier He had ac-
quilted himself nobly. He was going
to die, as so many stronger men had
died, without stain on his fair es-
cutcheon. 1t was Lucy PaXton's hand
that plucked the sweet bouquets which
found their way to his feeble hands.
1t was her mother who sat with our
mother and counted the pulse beats of
our Doe as life was fading fast away.
One day he reused himself from his
stupor, and with light in his eyes |
had never seen before, he asked me to
90 and see if the ''love vine" had be-
and found the golden threads entwined
around the low gallberry bushes.
''Is it a-growing," he asked when I
came in.
Yes; it is running everywhere" I
answered.
Il knowed it. That's a sure sign.
I'm so glad
That was the last word he ever ut
tered
Lucy Paxton is the noble wife of an
honest farmer. She is good woman,
and she points out little mound in
the old graveyard to her children,
when they 90 there meeting days, and
they scrape away the green mold and
the lichens, and spell out the letters
on it, DOC, Doe M N. Folsom
in atlanta Constitution.